


Not Much Time

by JantoJones



Series: Modest Briefings (The 2nd 100) [57]
Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-30
Updated: 2019-09-30
Packaged: 2020-11-08 11:53:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20835023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JantoJones/pseuds/JantoJones





	Not Much Time

Napoleon Solo and Illya Kuryakin had just broken out of the cell they were being held in, and were desperately searching for the way out of the remote compound in which it was situated. Having been divested of all their equipment and weapons, they could only hope they would discover it all on their journey to freedom. Ordinarily they would take the time to search for it, and anything Thrush related which could come in useful to U.N.C.L.E. This time, however, they knew the explosives that Illya had hidden throughout the compound could go off at any time.

It had been daytime when Solo and Kuryakin had been taken captive but now, as they passed through the darkened corridors, they realised night was falling. This concerned them. Illya had set the timers on his bombs for 7 pm and, as they passed a window, they saw that dusk was already falling.

They swiftly made their way through the facility and finally found a door which would take them outside. Illya was reaching out to turn the handle when a gunshot rang out and Napoleon grunted in pain. He dropped to the floor with his right hand clasped to his left bicep.

“Stay where you are,” a guard instructed, as he advanced towards them; his gun aimed squarely at Illya.

The Russian chewed on his lip in frustration. They didn’t know what the time was, and he didn’t relish getting caught up in his own demolition. As the guard drew closer, Napoleon and Illya exchanged a look. No words were spoken, yet a message was passed between them. Each man knew how the other acted and reacted in most situations, so they both knew what was about to happen.

“I would let us go if I were you,” Illya told the guard. “Then I would run.”

“I don’t think so,” the grunt answered, with a sneer. “I’m the one with the gun, and there’s nothing you can say that will persuade me to release you.”

Illya smiled. It wasn’t the shy half-smile which charmed the ladies, but a cold, humourless one. Combined with the icy steel in his eyes, it was enough to send a shiver through the guard. It had the effect of causing the man to become fixated on Illya; wondering what he was planning. It was the moment Napoleon had been waiting for. 

Sweeping his legs around, he knocked the guard from his feet. Illya was immediately on top of the grunt, and quickly disarmed him. 

“Get up!” he ordered.

The guard quickly stood and raised his hands above his head.

“What time is it?” Illya asked.

“What?”

“The time! What is it?”

Despite being unsure of the U.N.C.L.E. agent’s motives, the guard glanced at his watch. 

“S..s..six fifty-five,” he said.

“Chyort!” Illya cursed. “You’d better run if you want to live. This whole place is going to blow up in five minutes.”

The tone of Illya’s voice ensured that the guard didn’t need to be told twice. He turned on his heel and sprinted away. Illya helped Napoleon up, and the pair darted out of the door and into the car-filled enclosure of the compound. Napoleon sent a quick prayer of thanks heavenwards while he and Illya made for the nearest vehicle; an armoured jeep. It took Illya the work of moments to hotwire the vehicle, and he stamped his foot down on the gas.

“Brace yourself,” he yelled to Napoleon, as he aimed the jeep at the wooden gates of the compound.

The gates burst around them, but Illya barely noticed as he concentrated on getting as far away as possible. A minute later, a loud boom could be heard as the compound was destroyed. Illya slammed on the brakes, before jumping out to watch the fire consume the facility.

“That was close,” Napoleon commented, as he joined his partner.

“Is that not what we are known for?” Illya asked. “Last minute escapes or rescues. We had better get you to a doctor.”

As the two men climbed back into the jeep, Napoleon was struck by the dark purple of the twilight sky. The stars were just beginning to twinkle.

“Home James,” he instructed, as Illya started the engine. “Second star to the right, and straight on ‘til morning*.”

“As you wish, Peter.”

_*Peter Pan_


End file.
